


Spell-binding

by Ebyru



Series: random avengers prompts [12]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Backwards Timeline, Blood, Dubious Consent, F/M, Halloween, Magic, Witchcraft, ending first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve go to a party. Steve is very interested in the host, Natasha, but Bucky tells him to stay away.  He doesn’t listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spell-binding

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd - sorry.
> 
> Written for the Halloween contest over at [shieldandgun](http://shieldandgun.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This is completely backwards, not just the ending first and then back to beginning. So the details as to why the night progressed like it did are revealed as they go.
> 
> Natasha's a bit of a villain in this story, but it's okay, right? It's a Halloween story after all.

“It’s been done,” she says with such finality that Steve knows he’s made the wrong decision.

She begins to move away, and it feels like a physical tug in the pit of his stomach. He’s lurching toward her. Then, she takes a step forward, and the knot uncoils, loosens. His body relaxes. _He_ relaxes.

The smile she offers him isn’t a friendly one. Steve can recognize that now, even if he can’t change it after the fact.

He should have listened when people said she was dangerous.

 

***

 

When he opens his eyes, she’s sitting at the end of the bed, and he’s lying in it, sheets tangled around him, sweat all over his skin. Her eyes aren’t gold anymore, but the green is drawing him in. And then they’re alight, bright – like a forest fire, like a flame under his skin, like molten lava boiling him.

“I give in,” Steve says, not aware of what words just left his mouth. But he’s letting her stroke down his thigh for some reason. And her nails pierce into his flesh, drawing blood. She licks her fingertips, tongue curling around the taste, chasing it.

“I knew that already.”

 

 

***

 

“You’re mine now, Steve.” She presses her lips to his, but this time it’s different.

The cold is ebbing away; his skin feels hot and too tight in some areas; his lips part, and her tongue darts in, claiming him; he feels himself falling, but her hands are still on him, carrying him.

There’s no more fight left in him. All he wants is for her to have him.

 

***

 

There’s more teeth than tongue, more teeth than lips, too. And it doesn’t feel good. She kisses like it’s nothing but business. Steve’s never been anyone’s business before. He’s never been anyone’s _anything_ before either. And that’s how she’s treating him: like a possession.

She blows across his lips, softly, slowly. He would think it’s almost tender, if he could forget she was the one in control. And then his entire body feels cold. He shivers and remembers that his clothes are still missing.

 

***

 

He belatedly realizes that his clothes are falling away, and that he’s still spinning too quickly. Her eyes flash to gold for a long time, too long, and she laughs. She sounds nothing like he imagined she would.

It’s almost a cackle.

He closes his eyes.

 

***

 

The knives are all around him.

Some of them have grazed his skin, too close for Steve’s taste, but mostly they’re planted into his cape and pants. There’s no way he can pull them out with his wrists still secured to the chain at the head of the table.

She made sure that would be the case.

How long ago had she planned this?

 

***

 

There’s not much explanation for why he’s currently strapped to a table, vertically, being spun around and around and around…

The world feels out of sync, distorted, or maybe he should have been paying better attention to Natasha earlier.

She pulls at the chains keeping him locked in place, and hums in a pleased way when Steve weakly tries to struggle against them.

“It’s too late for that now, Steve.”

 

***

 

Natasha is smiling, and it’s making Steve’s body feel numb. She pushes the glass back up to Steve’s mouth, and he can’t stop her. He drinks again. The flavour coats his throat and mouth.

She’s closer when she says, “I made it especially for you. You have to drink it.”

There’s a marking on her wrist. Natasha’s eyes dart down to where Steve’s looking, and she quickly tugs at her sleeve to cover it.

“Drink up,” she says, tone too gentle to be an order. But her hands are too steady for it to be anything else.

Steve can’t help it. He can’t fight her when she tips his head back to drink.

So, he just swallows. And hopes there’s a point to all this.

 

 

***

 

The ice clinks when she drops it in his glass, offering him a smile and a colourful drink. It tastes sweet, chilled, prepared. Complicated.

Steve licks his lips, savouring it. He loves punch, especially when they’re homemade.

And this one is delicious.

 

***

 

Steve is backing towards a wall when he feels the body heat of someone else behind him.

“Have you been watching me, _Steve Rogers_?” Natasha murmurs in his ear, curling a hand around his waist.

It’s a miracle Steve says anything with the way she smells. Like a field full of wildflowers in full bloom, desperately soaking up sunlight. “How did you know my name?”

Natasha presses closer, holding on to Steve’s wrist. “Because I’ve been watching you, too. My handsome vampire.”

People move out of the way, parting like the Red Sea, when Natasha drags Steve into the kitchen to make him a better drink. She owns the house, it seems.

Something about that doesn’t sit well with him.

 

***

 

One moment she’s lounging against the wall, swirling her clear drink around in her glass. And the next, she’s gone. Steve can’t see her anywhere.

Bucky is being dragged off by the blond toward the pile of coats, and Steve can figure out what that means.

He made a promise, yes, but Steve isn’t looking for her. He isn’t.

It just so happens, when he tries to mingle with a few other women, that he takes a moment to ask if they know the redhead dressed all in black. Most of them go pale once he mentions her, though.

Luckily, one of Bucky’s friends takes pity on Steve, and answers his query.

“Her name is Natasha Romanov. But that’s all I know.”

 

***

 

“I’m telling you, Steve, pick any girl except her,” Bucky says, sipping on rum and coke. “I’ve heard a lot of things about her, and none of it is good. People _change_ when they get involved with her.”

Steve chuckles softly, and Bucky frowns. “Okay, fine. I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t go talk to her, Steve. I mean it.” Bucky claps Steve on the shoulder. “I can introduce you to great girls, if that’s what you want tonight.”

But Steve doesn’t want a great girl; he wants the most interesting girl — the one who isn’t afraid to wear a skin-tight, black dress with wide sleeves and leather, knee-high boots that make her fiery, red hair seem like a wig in contrast to her outfit.

He wants a bit of something bold and new.

When Steve looks over, Bucky is in a corner chatting with a blond dressed as a nurse. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated. :)


End file.
